Gotharmony is fictional series set back in the Regency Era where gothic music was deemed evil. Its full of romance, betrayal, and mystery.
“You said I had the eyes of a wolf, search them and find the beauty of the beast”
The third episode of Gotharmony published exclusively on substack
"Well, well, if it isn't my beautiful." Duke Ashford's booming voice echoed across the courtyard. Verity turned to see her father approaching, his usual warm and jovial demeanor evident in his countenance. She wasn't expecting to see him here. "I see you've finally come to your senses and decided to grace us with your presence."
Verity rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You know I could never stay away for too long, father. After all, who else would keep you on your toes?"
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I should think that would be my lovely wife. You've got the wrong man, child"he added pulling her in for a side hug. She had missed him, his scent and all God knows love.
"Please , help her to her room, dont let her stand out here all day. I'm sure she's tired from her journey." Duke Ashford said his face bright and red from all the smiling as he gestured to John the butler who was giving the carriage instructions to unload Verity's trunks and other luggage and to take the horses to the stables for some well-deserved rest.
John inclined his head, acknowledging his request with a nod. "Welcome home, Miss Verity. It has been quite some time since we last saw you." Oh… Mr John, how she had missed him. He had been at their Manor for along as Verity had known. His once jet-black hair had turned into a silvery gray ,His tall frame, slightly stooped with age but despite all she couldn't forget his funny mannerism. Whenever he was deep in thought or concentrating on a task, he had a habit of absentmindedly tapping his foot to an imaginary rhythm, as if conducting an invisible orchestra. This quirky habit never failed to bring a smile to her face.
“Indeed, John. It feels like forever." Verity replied with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling with affection.As always , John always took great pride in his duties, ensuring that every aspect of the Ashford Estate ran like clockwork. He was always serious. Meaning bussiness even on times where it wasn't necessary.
He steped aside, ushering her through the grand entrance of the manor, doors that stood at least twice their height. She wouldn't mind if the whole thing came crumbling on them, the familiar scents of wood and polish filled her senses bringing a smile to her lips. she was home...home where the heart is.
She followed him through a series of corridors, passing by beautifully decorated rooms filled with antique furniture and artwork. Each turn revealed another glimpse into the grandeur of the estate untill they reached the hallway, Twelve ornate frames, meticulously arranged on the walls, showcased a gallery of portrait paintings of the Ashford legacy. Starting from the corridors entrance and moving towards the end of the hall, each frame depicted a member of the illustrious family.
The first painting, displayed prominently at the beginning of the hallway, portrayed a regal figure dressed in formal attire. His stern expression and commanding presence radiated authority and wisdom. This was none other than the patriarch himself, Sir Edmund Ashford, founder of the renowned Ashford Academy of Music. His passion for music had paved the way for countless aspiring musicians, shaping their destinies and contributing significantly to the cultural tapestry of the nation.
Moving further along, the subsequent portraits unveiled the faces of his descendants, each carrying the indelible mark of the Ashford heritage. From the serious demeanor of his eldest son, William, who became a celebrated conductor, to the joyful smile of his younger brother, Henry, who charmed audiences worldwide with his violin performances, each generation added their unique flair to the family's musical legacy. Verity loved coming here and staring at them for hours on end...sometimes she wondered what the future held for her.
As she continued her journey down the hall, Verity noticed subtle changes in the appearance of the individuals portrayed. The styles of clothing evolved, reflecting the passage of time and societal trends. The expressions ranged from intense concentration during performance to relaxed smiles at social gatherings, encapsulating the multifaceted lives led by the Ashford clan.
Finally, as she approached the end of the hallway, Verity came to a halt at that one portrait that always got her questioning. The once pristine image had been marred by a deep scratch, obscuring the features of the figure within. Despite numerous attempts to restore it, the damage remained.
Even though it was just a scratch it sent goosebumps down her arms, the cold chill that accompanied it made her wonder if someone or something was trying to communicate with her from beyond the veil of death. Verity leaned in close, trying to make out the features of the subject. But she was no more successful than she had been at previous times.
She couldn't see if the eyes were a soft green or a vibrant blue. Was the hair long and straight, or short and curly? No matter how hard she stared, the image stayed fuzzy and indistinct. But she saw more than she always did. This figure's hands were adorned with two rings, one on the index finger and the other on the thumb. These showed that this person was obviously a woman judging from how she was dressed in a gown that swept the floor .
But what bothered her was the fact that the face was covered with a black cloth. Was she hiding her identity? Or was she ashamed of it? Perhaps it was simply a symbol of mourning, signifying a profound grief that transcended the canvas. Whatever the reason, the mysterious figure held an undeniable allure, drawing Verity closer with each visit.
Verity stared at the portrait for several moments, lost in thought. Who was she? Why was her face hidden? What secrets lay buried within those empty eye sockets? Could she possibly be related to the Ashford family?
""Miss Verity, are you quite well?" a familiar voice interrupted her reverie. Startled, Verity turned to find John standing beside her, his expression one of genuine concern.
"Oh, yes, John. I am perfectly well," Verity reassured him with a soft smile, her gaze returning to the portrait before them. "I was merely admiring the artwork. May I pose a question to you, John?"
"Indeed, miss. What might that be?" John replied, his tone deferential and respectful. Verity couldn't help but marvel at his unwavering composure, wondering if he was always so poised."I am curious, John. How many years have you graced the halls of this manor with your service?" Verity inquired, her eyes drifting back to the enigmatic portrait.
."Ah, well, miss. I have had the honor of serving the Ashford family for nigh on forty years now," John replied with a hint of pride, his gaze fondly tracing the portraits that adorned the walls.Verity nodded, her curiosity piqued. "Forty years is indeed a commendable tenure, John. Your dedication to the Ashford household does you great credit.” he answered with a hint of pride.
Verity nodded, impressed. "That's a long time indeed. Have you ever met the subject of this particular portrait?" She gestured towards the mysterious woman. John paused for a moment, contemplating his answer.
" How long have you been staring at it?" He asked curiously. His eyes lingering on the portrait for sometime before getting back to Verity.
"Ever since I was a child. She fascinates me somehow."
"Well, that makes sense. She is quite a fascinating subject indeed," John responded with a knowing smile. "To answer your question, she is known as 'The Veiled Lady' allover the manor. Its said that she was a distant relative of yours, though the specifics remain unclear due to the lack of records. However, rumors circulate among the staff that she might have been a gifted composer herself, perhaps even more talented than many in your esteemed family. Unfortunately, no one knows her true identity. Some say she was the sister to your grandmother...but countess doesn't speak about her either. I wonder why ."
John's words piqued Verity's curiosity even further. "What happened to her? If she was a composer, why isn't her work recognized?"
The butler shrugged nonchalantly. "Who knows? Perhaps her music was deemed unconventional or controversial, causing a rift within the family. Maybe she faced personal struggles that prevented her from pursuing her passion. Regardless, she remains an enigma, her existence marked by silence and speculation."
Verity glanced at the portrait once again, feeling a strange connection to this unknown ancestor. "Thank you for sharing this story with me, John. It adds another layer of mystique to our family history."
John nodded, his lips forming a thin line. "My pleasure, miss. Your fascination mirrors mine. I often find myself drawn to the Veiled Lady, pondering her untold stories and the secrets she holds."They shared a brief moment of understanding before continuing their walk down the hallway. Verity couldn't shake the feeling that the Veiled Lady had left an imprint on her soul, urging her to seek answers and unveil the mysteries surrounding her. They continued to her chamber which was located at the topmost part of the building overlooking the whole garden. Upon entering the room, Verity found it elegantly furnished with plush seating and a writing desk placed strategically near the window. An assortment of bookshelves lining one wall caught her attention, offering an array of titles that promised intellectual stimulation and escapism. The room also featured a fireplace crackling with warmth, casting a golden glow throughout the space.
John followed her in, adjusting the lighting and making sure everything was in order. After confirming her satisfaction, he excused himself to notify the rest of the household of her safe arrival. " wait..." She called out stopping him in mid stride.
GOTHARMONY: Episode 3